h him as I pleased.

A few weeks of sunshine passed--I must own that the sun did not look
so bright, nor feel so warm as it had done in former times--and then
our wills came once more into collision. But my tears fell upon a
rock. I could not see that they made the least perceptible
impression. Mr. Smith had his own way, and I cried about it until I
got tired of that sport, and in very weariness gave over. For the
space of a whole year I stood upon tears as my last defensible
position. Sometimes I didn't smile for weeks. But my husband
maintained his ground like a hero.

At last I gave up in despair. Pride, self-will, anger--all were
conquered. I was a weak woman in the hands of a strong-minded man.
If I could not love him as I wished to love him, I could at least
obey. In nothing did I now oppose him, either by resolute words or
tears. If he expressed a wish, whether to me agreeable or not, I
acquiesced.

One day, not long after this change in my conduct towards my
husband, he said to me, "I rather think, Mary, we will spend a
couple of weeks at Brandywine Springs, instead of going to Cape May
this season."

I replied, "Very well, dear;" although I had set my heart on going
to the Capes. My sister and her husband and a number of my friends
were going down, and I had anticipated a good deal of pleasure. I
did not know of a single person who was going to the Brandywine
Springs. But what was the use of entering into a contest with my
husband? He would come off the conqueror, spite of angry words or
ineffectual tears.

"The Springs are so much more quiet than the Capes," said my
husband.

"Yes," I remarked, "there is less gay company there."

"Don't you think you will enjoy yourself as well there as at the
Capes?"

Now this was a good deal for my husband to say. I hardly knew what
to make of it.

"If you prefer going there, dear, let us go by all means," I
answered. I was not affecting any thing, but was in earnest in what
I said.

Mr. Smith looked into my face for some moments, and with unusual
affection I thought.

"Mary," said he, "if you think the time will pass more pleasantly to
you at the Capes, let us go there by all means."

"My sister Jane is going to the Capes," I remarked, with some little
hesitation; "and so is Mrs. L--and Mrs. D--, and a good many
more of our friends. I did think that I would enjoy myself there
this season very much. But I have no doubt I shall find pleasant
society at the